I don't understand how everything changes, how the layers of your life get buried. Impossible. At some point, at some time, we must all explode.

Human beings, in their natural state, are unpredictable, erratic, and unhappy. It is only once their animal instincts are controlled that they can be responsible, dependable, and content.

I start to back away before I do something wildly inappropriate, like jump on top of him.

Of all the miracles Po had seen in the time and space of its death, Po thought this--the absorption of another, the carrying of it--was the most bewildering and remarkable of all. Whenever Bundle separated again, Po was left with an ache of sadness that reminded the ghost of the body it had left behind.

Everything I see and touch reminds me of him, and so everything I see and touch is perfect.

He Is looking at me through the smoke, across the fence. He never takes his eyes off me. His hair Is a crown of leaves, of thorns, of flames. His eyes are blazing with light, more light than all the lights in every city in the whole world, more light than we could ever invent If we had ten thousand billion years.

Why couldn't you let me have it? Why did you have to take it? Why did you always take everything?